


Why Are There Letters in Math?

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry ;)





	

“Spence!” you screamed, knocking on the door repeatedly. “Spence, open the door! I need help!” She continued pounding on the door with both hands until he sleepily answered the door. 

“Yes, you do need help,” he yawned. He turned around, his blanket still lazily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked into the room. You’d barged into his dorm room randomly so many times that he trusted you to close the door as you invited yourself in. “Why in particular this time?”

“I suck!” you exclaimed. “I suck so hard.”

Laughing, he fell back onto his bed. “Again, I agree,” he said, grimacing as you smacked him hard in the side of the arm. “But why?”

“Calculussssss…,” she whined. “I do not have the brain for math. That’s why I’m an English major because my brain won’t do numbers. I do not want to have to take this class again. Please, for the love of God, help me pass this class.” You bounced down on to the bed next to him and snuggled your head into his shoulder. “Please help your bestie out,” you said, purposely quivering your lip to gain his sympathies.

“Alright, you gigantic pain in my ass,” he said. “When is this test? I know it’s a test because that’s the only reason you panic this much. And it’s the only thing that gets you to beg like a sad puppy.”

“Tomorrow,” you replied. “It’s good to have a best friend with a brain that’s the complete opposite of yours. This afternoon? During our free period?”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you in the library at 3. For now, I have to intravenously inject caffeine into my system so that I can get ready for class,” he laughed.

——

After receiving your final paper grade from your class on Shakespeare, an A of course, you made your way over to the library with a cup of coffee for yourself and Spencer. 

While you waited for him, you pulled out your calculus book and attempted to look at the page. It all looked like Greek to you. Why were there letters in math? Numbers were math, letters were language. Why? WHY? As you attempted to to decipher what the fuck this book was trying to tell you, you gave up, hitting your head on the table just as Spencer walked into the library.

“Can’t get it, can you?” he laughed, watching as you repeatedly knocked your head into the book on the table. The only thing that kept her from continuing her assault on her own head was the fact that Spencer dropped his enormously heavy book bag right next to her ear, scaring the crap out of her.

“No, I can’t,” you replied, snapping your head up at him. “I can’t. Because it’s greek. Why the fuck are there letters in math?! They belong with words, not with numbers. Once the introduction of letters happens in math, I lose all interest. Now sit your butt down and help me.” 

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Spencer did his best to explain the concept of derivatives, which is what your test was focused on. At first, no matter what he said, it sounded like the parents and teachers in a Charlie Brown cartoon - wah, wah, wah…wah, wah. But after a while, some of it started to sink in. Despite the fact that he was a mathematical genius and you were about as brilliant in this area as a slice of swiss cheese, he took his time attempting to explain things; he never once lost patience. 

“So what is the difference between first and second derivates?” he asked, wondering if you had absorbed anything over the course of the past hour and a half.

“The first derivative is the slope of the tangent line to the function at the “x” point, right?” you asked confused. He nodded, urging you to continue before you lost your train of thought. When it came to numbers, the train didn’t take long to run out of gas. “If the derivative is positive, then the function is increasing and if the derivative is negative then the function is decreasing.”

“And second derivatives?” he asked with a raised eye. There was a look of pride in his eyes. That probably meant you were grasping this ridiculous concept. 

For a second, you looked down at the book again. “The second derivative of a function is the derivative of the derivative of that function?”

“Yes,” he said excitedly, clinking his coffee cup against yours. “If the second derivative is positive?”

“If it’s positive, then the function f is concave up, so it looks like a U, and if it’s negative, then the function f is concave down and it looks like an upside down U,” you said, semi-confidently. “You think I might be able to pass this bullshit?”

He snorted, taking the final sip of his coffee and throwing the cup in the garbage can across from you. “I think you might just pass,” he said. “You are brilliant. Just not in math. What made you decide on English and writing as a major? Anything besides the fact that you like it?”

“Thanks, Spence,” you said, closing up the book and putting it in your bag. “And I just think that there is way too much ugliness in the world and people need a way to escape that. Creative writing lets us do that, and if I can teach people how to write stories that bring others out of their own heads for a little while…I think that’s beautiful.”

“Brilliant and insanely caring,” he said, standing up from the table. “Now, I know you, and your first reaction is going to be to cram for the test. Don’t. Do. It. Go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Did you know that the performance gap caused by an hour’s difference in sleep is bigger than the gap between a normal 4th grader and a normal 6th grader? Which is basically just another way of saying that a slightly sleepy 6th grader will perform at the level of a 4th grader. Losing one hour of sleep is equivalent to losing two years of cognitive maturation and development.”

“So, go to sleep or I’ll lose two years of intelligence when I go to take my test tomorrow?” you said. It made sense, but it would be difficult. It was your nature to cram.

“Yes,” he replied, giving you a kiss on the forehead before picking up his bag. “Now I have to get to my advanced trig class, but let me know how the test goes when you get out.”

“Thanks again, Spence,” you replied. “I will.”

——

After the test the next day, you texted Spencer. You actually felt like the test went fairly well. You weren’t the first one to finish, but you weren’t the last to finish either, so you took that as a good sign. A week later, you got the test back and ran to Spencer’s dorm, knocking incessantly until he opened the door.

“What do you want from my life?” he laughed. “Can’t you call like a normal person?”

“I’m not normal. That’s why you love me,” you laughed, walking into the dorm and handing him your test.

He looked at it and smiled. “You got a 91! You don’t suck anymore!”

“Ow!” he laughed, as you hit him. “What? You said you sucked and now you don’t suck anymore! I’m a miracle worker.”


End file.
